she waves her hands like flags
her heart thumps
and skips a beat in her chest
impressed by what she’s seen
she can only dream of a time
when she could come clean
her voice trembles and her spine reels
she turns inwards and her lip shakes a little
it stings
she’s not sure what makes her feel this way
is it the space
or the days
gone to gather wildflowers in the sun
she undresses her best smile
from time immemorial she has spun
the threads of cotton that became her fame
her main job was to pray
for the men and women
who came each day to visit her